The Dark Companionship (Clintasha teenagers)
by Dragonhardt
Summary: Natasha has escaped from the Red Room to seek refuge in New York. Here she is met by Clint, a trainee spy. When Clint discovers Natasha has escaped from a criminal organisation in Russia, he leaves S.H.E.I.L.D in order to help her keep them off her toes. With two faceless organisations searching for them , Clint and Natasha embark on an adventure that will change their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, new story! Hope you enjoy, AU - sort of -not completely. Clintasha. BIG Clintasha. Rated T for violence, action, romance and some language. **

This was it.

Natasha's way out of the squalid, repulsive hell-hole.

I mean, she was taught a lot of cool stuff - but they could be less brutal. You think you know strict, you know nothing until you've experienced the Red Room. Natasha had been imprisoned here since the age of six, after her parents were killed. I mean, who would kidnap a crying, petrified six year old? As soon at little Natasha arrived, she was put on intense skill course, full of a wide range of martial arts, weapon techniques, and plenty of killing. Oh yes, Natasha remembered her first kill like it was yesterday. The red room was full of defenceless, terrified hostages. Most of them just picked off the streets. She first killed when she was eight. An eighty five year old woman. Kidnapped for training purposes. Natasha refused. She _did _have morals. In the end, Natasha killed the old woman. If she didn't she would have been tortured - then killed. But after the kill she was reduced to a sobbing wreck. Her teacher didn't applaud her for the waterworks. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But things had changed, recently. Natasha was naturally talented at espionage and hand-to-hand combat. She was becoming increasingly stronger by the second. For a thirteen year old, Natasha could take down a grown adult easily. She could speak Russian, English and Spanish fluently and was an expert in hacking into government databases. Natasha was too good for an old grotty excuse of a criminal organisation. She needed to help people, save their asses - not be a threat to humanity. She wanted to leave to New York. She could take the freight ships. Of course Natasha had planned the escape for months now. carefully calculating her moves.

The young assassin sat in the corner of her cell - well it was a half bedroom, half cell. Anytime soon her teacher, Grant, would grab her by the hair and pull her to the warehouse/training room. Yes, Grant isn't exactly a Russian name. The Red Room was an international organisation. Grant was English. He was tall, strong and well groomed - a James Bond type of character. Sure enough, the heavy door was unlocked and the menacing criminally insane, scarily calm spy guy was standing right before Natasha, his tall composure casting a long shadow into the dingy room from a light source in the corridor. Natasha inwardly smirked. She knew all her teacher's moves. He didn't know all of her moves. Natasha often used her five hours of rest per night to practice new moves - yet never use them in training.

'Natasha, it's time to play. Get out child.' He said in his eerily calm voice. Natasha wished he spoke with a more aggressive tone sometimes.

Natasha obeyed and marched out of her room, her head hung from her shoulders, causing her long, ginger, matted hair to cover her face. Natasha counted her footsteps and looked to her right. Knowing the building off by heart, Natasha recognised the weak structures, old dusty spots, unfortified sections, windows, everything. A few more steps and this was it. She had to do it right. Make sure all her judgements were correct - if not, well, Natasha didn't want to think of the consequences.

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks - her face remained ambiguous.

'Tasha, we've got training. Keep walking.' This time Natasha could detect maliciousness creeping into his voice. Still, she kept her calm. She was one move ahead of him. Grant reached out with his right hand, attempting to grab her arm. Expecting this, Natasha swerved round him and struck him in the back of the knee. Hard. He instantaneously fell to the floor. Natasha escaped down a different corridor before he got up. Short attacks were always the most effective. Natasha followed the dark corridor till the end, at which was a fire exit. This was one of the least guarded places, only problem is - it was on the roof. Luckily, Natasha could best virtually anyone at parkour. Natasha knocked the door down. She was outside, at last! It was a cold, dark morning. No stars were visible. A black catsuit wasn't really appropriate clothing, but it camouflaged her.

Staying low in the shadows, Natasha climbed down the emergency ladder, making virtually no noise. Sharpening her senses, Natasha could make out some voices. She let go of the ladder and landed lightly on a metal balcony. There were people below her, straining her ears, Natasha could decipher the language: Russian. they were guards all right - but they weren't expecting to be attacked from above. Before the guard could react, Natasha jumped off the balcony, onto him, cushioning Natasha's fall. She took the guard's hand pistol out of it's holder and fired it at the other guard's leg. It wouldn't kill him. Paralyse him? Maybe. Keeping the pistol, Natasha scurried through the many alleyways, keeping low and concealing herself in the shadows whenever she heard voices. Eventually, she made it to the shipping port. Many crates were piled on top of each other. The port was still functioning, even though it was five in the morning. Bright lights lit up the ports, and cranes lifted the cargo onto large ships. The sight amazed Natasha. She'd only seen it once.

Looking for freight that was shipped to New York, Natasha passed dozens upon dozens of crates. At last, she found one. She attempted to open the doors. Locked. That was no problem. All Natasha needed was a steel bar. Coincidentally, there was one lying on the floor, patiently waiting to be used. Natasha half smiled. She picked up the bar and kicked the doors down, using all her strength. The doors flew open, revealing an empty crate. Natasha cautiously crept in and relaxed when she realised nobody was in the crate. She closed the doors behind her and threaded the steal bar through the lock, bending the edges so it was locked from the inside.

Natasha unzipped the top of her suit, revealing a lime green t-shirt. Her suit had many hidden pockets. She had sneaked some thing out, including a torch, some money (it could be converted into dollars there), a small knife, the guard's pistol and a bottle of water. Natasha turned on the torch, causing the crate to fill up with light. It was empty, dry and warmer than the biting outdoor temperatures. Feeling quite tired, Natasha lay down on the crate's hard floor. It was such a relief to be free. Natasha would sleep anywhere now. This was a luxury hotel. She took a sip of her water bottle before closing her eyes, knowing finally she could sleep for more than five hours each night.

* * *

Clint Barton shot his bow and arrow at the target. Bullseye. As always. He smirked over at the other kids, looking proud.

'Barton. Pay attention. You'd be dead by now if this were a mission.' Vincent declared. Vincent was the manager of the S.H.I.E.L.D Youth department. He taught the kids how to use weapons, marksmanship, hand to hand combat, gymnastics, climbing, agility and computer hacking. Of course, as you've probably figured out now, this is no ordinary school. Only special kids were trained here. Talented young hopefuls for the Strategic Homeland Interventional Enforcement Logistics Division were trained here. The Youth Department was split into three categories: the Scary Little Spy Kids (6-11) The Kids That can Become Dangerous When Moody (12-19) and the Old Serious Guys (20-23). Then you went on to become a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

Clint and his friends saw it as a summer camp, rather than a government assassin training operation thingy. Occasionally, S.H.I.E.L.D needed young people for missions. Nobody expects a kid. Normally, it's just undercover stuff, retrieving information, that sort of stuff. However, they sometimes offer proper missions; just very rarely. Clint's class composed of seven kids: Clint himself, the gifted-marksman-but-crap-at-everything-else guy, Maria, the gal that nobody messed with, Jasper, the average tag along guy, Jake, the sporty athlete runner guy - he'd be good at running away from things, Holly, a pretty, friendly girl but could be lethal, Jeremy, the ninja (he was also Clint's best friend) and Toby, the useless one who nobody knows how he managed to qualify for this place.

'Oh stop showing off.' Maria said as she aimed her gun at the target. She managed to hit yellow. The young spy dropped her gun and swore.

'Having trouble?' Clint asked and shot an arrow simultaneously.

'Well, at least I don't use primitive weapons.'

'Hey, you can't beat the classics.' Clint drew his bow and scored another bullseye.

Clint was suddenly tapped on the shoulder by Vincent.

'Clint, I need to speak with you.'

Clint blushed as he looked around the room.

'Shit, am I in trouble?' Clint asked.

'No, but you will be if you use that keep on using that language.'

'Sheesh, sorry, I wasn't aware that I went to an English boarding school,'

Vincent ignored the comment and walked out of the room. Clint trailed along.

'Clint, we need you for a mission.' Vincent said in the corridor. Clint's face lit up.

'Woohoo! Take that, Jeremy!' Clint punched the air.

'You will need to take watch over the port in New York. If you notice any suspicious behaviour, investigate. You will be sniping from a building and we need someone who can fit into small spaces.'

'I'm your man.' Clint spoke, saluting like a soldier.

'Good. You will leave tomorrow at two. A weapon will be provided.'

'Ummm... Okay! Cool!' Clint cheered as went back inside the target room.

'Guess who's got their own mission!' Clint boasted.

'Really?' Asked Jeremy, putting down his pistol, 'Congrats, man!'

'Phhh, I could get a mission whenever I want!' Maria huffed. Clint just laughed.

'Is that the green eyed monster I see?'

'I can! I'm friends with Phil!'

'He's only in the Adult classes, he's not even an agent yet.'

'He will be in January!'

'Yeah, yeah.'

The day passed too quickly for Clint. That night he couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He was hyper in anticipation, bugging his friends; who had finally gone to sleep. Clint looked at his watch. 2:30. Maybe he should get some rest. Clint lay back on his top bunk. Clint _always _had the top bunk. He had an obsession with heights. The dorm consisted of three bunks and a single, along with wardrobes and two bathrooms. The room was lived in, and didn't look like it belonged in a Top Secret Government Organisation. It just looked like a room shared by... teenagers. Except for the amount of weapons littered on the floor. The young marksman made a sound of annoyance and sat up too quickly, banging his head on the ceiling. He swore and lay back down, forcing his body to sleep.

Excited, Clint rose earlier. He was dressed and washed before anyone else had even woken up. Clint marvelled at himself in the mirror. He wore official S.H.I.E.L.D armour; logo and everything!

'Clint, your mission's not till two in the afternoon! It's six o clock in the bloody morning!' Maria hissed, watching him from her bed.

'I know, I'm just excited.'

'You'd better come home alive or I'll kill you!' Maria teased. Clint laughed and lifted an arrow off the floor.

'Now how did_ that _get there?' Clint mumbled to himself as he placed it on the desk.

* * *

Natasha woke up. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed and looked around, remembering why she was in a crate. In the night she had felt a strange sensation, as if she was being lifted up. Now she felt like she was moving up and down, not the most pleasant feeling; she could live with it though. Natasha, for the first time in years, felt well rested. It was a good feeling. Freedom was bliss. It was still dark inside the container, but there was a square of light seeping in at the far end of the container. Daylight. Moving to open the doors, Natasha stretched out. She felt stronger and more alert. Bending the bar and taking it out of the lock, Natasha opened the doors, revealing the most amazing sight she'd ever seen. The Statue of Liberty welcomed her. Many tall skyscrapers stood proudly over the waters. The warm, afternoon sun beamed down onto Natasha. A great welcome. A fresh start. The ship drifted closer inland and eventually stopped outside the port. Making sure the coast was clear, Natasha ran off the barge, onto American soil.

Clint carefully watched the port. He watched the ships, the workers, the freight being lifted by the large crane; nothing remotely interesting. Then he noticed her. A girl about his age, running off one of the freight carriers. She looked quite unkempt, but she suited it. The girl looked around her in astonishment. Had she ever been here? was she a stowaway? Vincent said if he saw anything unusual, investigate. Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he loosened his grip on the arrow.

'This is Hawkeye, noticed suspicious behaviour. Going down to investigate, over.' Damn he was bad at speaking, but his codename was awesome.

He exited the building in which he was sniping and observed the girl from not so far away. Clint moved closer. He should confront her, like a cop. He didn't see the harm in that. Clint walked over to the girl casually, who was looking at the New York landscape.

'Hey!' He greeted, 'Are you new here? I-'

Clint dodged a punch. Luckily, he had lightning fast reflexes. But that was pretty cool. He definitely didn't expect that. The girl ran off quickly. Intrigued, Clint ran after her.

Natasha ran. She can't introduce herself to anyone. She didn't trust anyone! Especially people who have reflexes like that. He was just a boy, about her age or older, but there was something about him that Natasha just had to avoid. She couldn't put her finger on it. Natasha ran down streets, down alleys, down passageways all through New York. Still, the boy was pursuing her.

Okay, this girl had stamina. Clint decided to put an end to it and took out an arrow. He was aiming for a small cut on the leg, that would slow her down, but not cause her to bleed to death. Clint quickly fired the arrow. Perfect shot as always.

Natasha felt a sudden pain in her leg. She unintentionally slowed down. The boy moved in to tackle her. Throwing her to the ground, Natasha couldn't get back up. The boy was strong.

'Who are you?'

Silence.

'Who are you and why are you running from me. I don't want to hurt you.'

Natasha spoke, remembering her American accent.

'That's rich coming from the guy who shot an arrow to my leg.'

'Well, I had to get your attention. Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Just a small cut.'

Natasha decided to go with her guts and trust the boy.

'Whats your name?'

'Clint. You?'

'Natasha.'

'Thats a pretty name.'

'Hey, don't push it, bub.'

**Sorry, that was rushed. First chapter was pathetic. I can't write today. Review and stuff. Seeya. xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry, it's been such a long time! Aargh! I promise I won't abandon it when it gets more intense! Review pleeease.**

'You can trust me. I promise.' Clint swore.

'Call me paranoid, but I don't trust people who carry walkie-talkies and have the logo of some sort of government organisation plastered on their clothes.'

Clint knew how to approach this. Okay, she wasn't stupid. He'd give her that. He took out his walkie-talkie and threw is across the gritty floor.

'Okay, fine. You are being sincere. I believe you. But why are you doing this?'

'I... I don't know.' Clint realised he had no idea what he was doing. This girl was mysterious. Possibly dangerous, too. But a little voice inside him was telling him to help Natasha. Which was quite odd.

'Where are you from?' Clint asked. Her accent was pretty good, but he could almost hear something else in her voice, something that told the story of her past.

'Russia.' Natasha replied. Why was she telling this stupid kid her heritage? Natasha tried to stop herself; but she couldn't. There was something about him. Maybe it was just the fact that he was smokin' hot.

It then dawned on Clint. Why had S.H.I.E.L.D sent him to the docks? To monitor any suspicious behaviour. Why would they send a professionally trained super kid to watch the docks? He was a secret agent, not a cop! Maybe Natasha was on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar. And for a reason.

'It's not safe here. We should talk somewhere else.' Clint looked around the small alleyway surrounding them. Just a few metres away was a street swarming with all sorts of people.

'Okay, where?'

'Good question.' Clint said. Where _could _they talk in private? New York wasn't exactly the quietest place.

'Maybe we don't have to hide.' Natasha smiled.

'What? You want to tell the world about your past?'

'No,' she scowled, 'Maybe we could blend in. Nobody will suspect a thing.'

Clint raised his eyebrows and nodded.

'Not bad for a girl I met like, five minutes ago. Okay. So, where are kids normally at ten a.m on a weekday?'

'School.'

'And what do kids normally wear?'

'I dunno, clothes?'

Clint rolled his eyes, 'Follow me.' He commanded. Natasha nodded and followed Clint onto the busy New York streets. He stopped abruptly outside a cheap clothes shop that looked slightly derelict.

'I think there are regular clothes sold for nothing in there. That's good. I have ten dollars.'

'So you're just gonna go in, get some stuff and walk out?'

'Well... Yes.'

'Are you crazy?' Natasha nearly shrieked. Clint gave her a funny look.

'I don't think I'm the one that's crazy here!'

'But there could be cameras in there!'

'Seriously, Natasha, I doubt the government are surveying a shitty clothes store. Wait out here. Try not to run away.'

Natasha nodded impatiently and folded her arms.

Clint pushed the door open, the bell ringing in the process. Wow. The shop really was crappy. The white walls were peeling, and the ceiling had a damp patch that was probably a city for all sorts of creatures that made Clint squirm. A clerk sat behind the checkout desk, reading a magazine. Moving into the shop, Clint walked past many fashionable brands such as: I_nstantDry, Nikk and Space. _

Finally finding decent clothes, Clint walked up to the clerk.

'Umm... Excuse me?'

The clerk was an old, foreign woman, who grabbed the clothes off him and scanned the tag. Clint knitted his brows and looked around. Were they always this rude?

'Seven fifty.' She muttered in a hoarse voice. Clint paid the money and walked out quickly, eager to leave the dump. He found Natasha resting against the wall of the shop, biting her nails.

'Bad habits.' Clint scolded.

'Sorry, _mother.'_

_'_Gotcha something.' Clint held out a white hoodie and black leggings. 'Sorry for the smell.'

'Why does it say "I love 1D" on the front?'

'Crap! Sorry! I didn't see that!' Clint apologised. Natasha shrugged.

'What did you get?'

'Oh, a grey "InstantDry" jacket and black pants. Just wear the clothes over your regular ones. That's what I'm doing.'

Natasha nodded and put the hoodie on over her regular clothes. The leggings appeared to be the same as her own so she needn't bother. She looked over to Clint, who sure looked different with regular clothes on.

'How do I look?' He asked, looking down at his new outfit.

'Less "super-spy kid", more normal kid.'

'Good. Does it make my butt look big?'

'What?'

'Nothing. Come on, I know where we can go. There's a school a few miles from here.'

Natasha followed Clint down the bustling streets. It was great knowing you fitted in, looked regular among a crowd of people. Although, she didn't know it, the two kids stood out more than anything...

* * *

'Where is the little rat!' Shouted Gregory, the head of the Red Room. One of his top assassins managed to escape, past every guard, every obstacle, every person. Vincent remained calm, stood before his threatening boss with his hands behind his back. Gregory looked like a sleazy criminal, who probably had never seen a shower before. Such a stereotype for a criminal organisation boss.

'Do not worry, Greg. I assure you, I know her whereabouts.'

'Prove it.' Gregory took out a cigarette and a novelty 'playboy' lighter, with explicit images of... Well, you know. Vincent produced a tiny device that looked like a laser. He pressed the button on the device and pointed it at the wall.

'Don't think I haven't come prepared, Greg. This device connects to the tracking device I crammed in that filthy body of hers years ago.'

On the wall, a projection coming from the laser, showed the streets of New York. A little red dot was winding through the maze like a trapped rat. Gregory exhaled smoke and smiled, showing yellow, rotten teeth as he did so.

'Well, Vincent. You aren't entirely useless, I suppose instead of killing you, I could just maim you instead, eh?'

* * *

'Made it!' Clint smiled as he looked at the school. It was pretty plain; just one big cuboid, with a few windows and doors built-in. Luckily, the playground seemed nice. In the far end was a range of trees, along with picnic benches inside the forest area.

'We could go over there.' Clint suggested, pointing at the trees.

'Good idea.' Natasha looked around suspiciously, 'Where are all the kids?'

'In lessons, probably. Damn, regular school sounds boring.'

'What do you mean, 'regular school?"

'Patience... Is the key to success, now let's go. If I were you I'd walk close to the building, and not in the middle of the open playground.'

'You don't say!' Natasha rolled her eyes. Clint shrugged.

'Have to be sure.'

Clint and Natasha finally made it to the area. It was a nice feature. Foliage surrounded them as they walked through.

'Shh! I hear something!' Natasha hissed. Clint heard it too. A faint conversation.

'Lets investigate.' Clint said.

'No! You idiot! You'll attract unnecessary attention.'

'Hey, I heard something!' A voice announced.

'Oh for fuck's sake Natasha! Could you be any more louder?'

'Oh, look what we have here!' Three boys emerged from the bushes.

'What are you doing here? This is out spot!'

Clint smiled.

'Don't worry, when I knock you down, I'll try not to make your faces any more ugly than they already are.'

'Oh, you asked for it.'

One boy moved in for a punch. Clint grabbed the flying fist and twisted it, pulling the boy down.

'Why would you do that?' Natasha whispered to Clint.

'They were _annoying. _Natasha looked pitifully at the two dumbstruck boys.

'Sorry guys, thanks to this idiot here, I'll have to take you down.'

Natasha moved forward and took down the boys in three swift moves. Now all three of them were on the floor, unconscious.

'Damn Tasha, you've got some moves,'

'Don't call me that.'

'Well what can I call you?'

'Well... If your small brain can't handle a big name like Natasha, then call me Nat,'

'Okay.'

'God, that was awful.'

'What do you mean, it was epic!'

'Epic? Thanks to you, I had to harm innocent people! And ever since I left Russia, my aim was to avoid that completely.'

'Well. You didn't have to harm them.'

'Yeah, I did. If they'd gotten away, they would have told someone we were here.'

'True. Okay, let's sit and exchange life stories: something I was told not to do since the age of six, but anyways...'

'I'll go first.' Natasha volunteered.

'My parents were pretty skilled assassins. I can't remember their names, nor who they worked for. At an extremely young age they found me. The Red Room. An international criminal organisation. They killed my parents right before me. I didn't know what to do. I was in shock. They kidnapped me and I lived a brutal life there until recently, when I escaped to New York. Trust me, you don't know how good freedom feels right now.'

'Oh. I'm sorry...I-'

'No sympathy.'

'Fine. Okay, my turn. Lets keep this short and sweet. My parents died when I was three years old. I was in and out of foster homes, until S.H.I.E.L.D found me.'

'S.H.I.E.L.D?'

'Yeah, Strategic... Homeland... Intervention...something, something, something. Basically, its like MI6, but much cooler. So they found me because I have skills with weapons. I can fire a bullseye without looking.'

'No! I don't believe you.'

'Here, look.'

Clint unzipped his jacket and took out a pistol. He would have used his bow and arrow but he left it in the alleyway, which was a stupid thing to do. Clint held the pistol up and almost fired-

'Wait! Won't that make noise?'

'Point taken. Ummm... I'll use this stone. Right. Do you see that empty can of soda?'

Natasha saw the discarded coke can and picked it up.

'Yeah.'

'Okay, hold it up in the air. I'll turn round and throw the stone without looking.

Clint threw the stone. He smiled when he heard the 'clang' of the stone colliding with the can.

'Okay! Cool. I believe you.' Said Natasha, trying to hide her awe.

'So anyway,' Clint continued, turning back round, 'S.H.I.E.L.D found me and I have trained there ever since in the youth department with other kids.'

'They have a youth department?'

'Yup, it's kinda like Hogwarts, but without the magic. Y'know, it's for special kids. But we have to learn the basic educational stuff like maths. On our timetable it goes: shooting, combat, field training, _arithmetic. _So boring. Wait, that's Tuesday's timetable.'

'So are you allowed out?'

'Oh yeah! Course! It's not a prison. There's a Subway down the road from it, and a shopping mall which is only about half a mile away.'

'Do you have weekends off?'

'Nat, if we didn't have weekends off, you would be talking to a criminally insane kid.'

'Lucky! I had only ever been outside twice when I was there!'

'Umm, Nat...'

'What?'

Clint only had to point. One of the boys was missing.

'Hey! You there! a stranger called. Possibly a teacher, or even a officer.

'Well, that's our hiding place busted!'

'We need to get out of here! Move!' Natasha warned. She grabbed Clint by the wrist and pulled him out of the bushes.

'We need to run to the gate. Think you can outrun an adult?'

'Phh, is S.H.I.E.L.D awesome? Let's move!'

**Okay! Hope you enjoyed it! The story is getting more in depth and it's only the second chapter! Seriously though, I have no idea of the ending!**


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